Back from hiatus(?)

I see that it's has been a long time since I wrote a post. Getting all existential about your life and then moving to a different continent will do that to you. I also started (and have been neglecting) a different blog and wrote a few stories in the hiatus. So it's not all bad on the creative writing front.

Its so quiet as I sit in my room now and watch a leafy slowly flutter down from the tree in my backyard. The grey silence of autumn is strangely soporific. It is peaceful and unnerving at the same time - I crave the quiet and the solitude but it often plunges me into a kind of pessimistic lethargy. And so, I try daily to strike that right balance between a public life and a private one.

When one is alone, it is so easy to carve out some me-time. To do just what pleases one or to do nothing at all if that is what one chooses. It can quite spoil you for company. So easy to lay curled up in bed, endless thoughts spinning through one's head.

Being alone makes you realize just how many conversations you have with yourself. And if you're like me, it doesn't bother you at all because you have a pretty active inner voice anyways. It struck me one day as I was going back home after a long day at the office. Once my office work is done, it is highly likely that I speak to no one at all as I journey back home, prepare dinner and get ready for bed.

You realize that the reason why you didn't do certain things has nothing to do with location and everything to do with you. I thought I would finally learn the culinary arts once I was on my own. Turns out I still don't like to cook. Neither the beautiful kitchen nor the growling of my tummy can make me do it. I do the occasional egg-frying, pasta making etc. but I find I can't be bothered to do more when I can do less. In other words, when I can easily eat out or buy ready to eat food which fits my mood at the time, why would I want to spend time cooking. After a hard day at work or even over precious weekends, I feel I'd rather spend my time doing something else.

This is not to say that I don't miss home-cooked food. I miss it intensely. The cliche about nothing quite besting "ma ke haath ka khana" (meals cooked by mother) is true my friends. After a while, all the restaurants of the world will pale in comparison to a meal of familiar, comfort food cooked by your mom. But yes, the fact that I am used to dining out and experimenting with my cuisine has been helpful. I know some people who stuck to the same culinary diet all their lives and suffered each time they had to travel. Experimenting with one's taste buds is one of the joys of living.

This also means of course that plans of a change in lifestyle have flown out of the window. Healthy, organic food, regular exercise and other such dreams turn to dust when I get stressed with work. Then only a ready to eat cheese-laden pizza and several precious hours of sleep seem important. Waking up early to exercise? You must be joking. Working out after work? Do you know what time my work gets over? So, yeah.

I get easily distracted these days, so I'll assume the same for you and continue my knowledge-sharing some other time. I have to go figure out what to have for lunch.

White Noise

A trip to the hospital to get a simple test done. Then again that's an antithesis - can any health related examination ever be simple?
A sense of stupid surprise that there are already so many people thronging the place. It's quite early in the morning but I guess time is not a variable in this equation. Making my way through the masses trying to locate the fastest possible route...with the sour realization that I am actually expediting a process that I dread. I run about and figure a way out of the maze which is hospital administration. It's not too hard though and it gives you something to keep your mind occupied.

Quite soon, too soon, I am sitting outside a white door in a white room amidst a group of motley strangers. I can see them try to guess the nature of my illness, my back-story even as I speculate about theirs. We stare gamely at each other pretending we don't care, as if this is something we do everyday. The hospital staff rush around taking charge. I marvel at the doctors, nurses and assistants as they pass by thinking about the courage it takes to spend all your waking hours here - in the presence of fear and disease and death. I for one cannot wait to run out as soon as possible. I already feel like I have been sitting on this hard plastic chair forever. I look around once more to distract myself. There is a television tuned in to the Cartoon Network. Someone has a sense of humour.

I look around to see if anyone waiting is watching the TV. No one is. There is an elderly woman who looks irritated with all the fuss, a few middle-aged men looking grim, a couple of them chatting away, just passing the time of day, there is a newly married couple sitting very close together on this winter morning. Some people just look resigned - been there, done that. There is an inmate of the hospital who has been brought in a wheelchair. Her face screams fear even as she sits immobile and soundless. Her daughter and husband are with her trying to draw her out of her misery. A boy who cannot be older than 10 is wheeled in. He is scared too. He clutches his grandmother's hand and picks away at the seat of his chair with the other. His voice rises in pitch as his grandmother leaves him alone for a bit. He is too young to be here I think.

I pray that he is alright. I pray that the woman in the wheelchair is fine too. And that the newlyweds have nothing to worry about. And I pray for myself. I know its nothing major (probably) but I realise that at this moment good health is the most important thing on my mind. Later I will worry again about a dozen other real or imagined problems...but right now I just say a short prayer.

I know that in that white room that day, my prayer at least was answered.

She - II

She breathed a sigh of relief. The meeting had gone off well. She began to feel herself relax, letting some of the stress out. She wanted to just sit still but began collecting up her papers instead. She could celebrate after she was out of the client's office. As she said her goodbyes, the marketing director walked up to her, lauded the presentation once again and pretty much made her day. She left the boardroom with a smile she couldn't quite conceal.

As they waited for the elevator, she listened with half a ear to the excited babble of the junior managers. The deal had been an important one and she had clinched it. Her boss hadn't been around to see it of course. Such was life. But even he couldn't ignore her contribution this time.

As the elevator doors opened, she saw there was already a man standing inside. As the elevator continued its downward journey, her kohl-lined eyes lazily lingered on him. Clean cut good looks, short hair, blue shirt, sharp tie, sleeves rolled up showing a chunky wristwatch on a strong forearm, nice shoes. Everything classic and understated. 'My kind of man' - the sudden thought flashed through her head taking her by surprise and making her look away hurriedly. The blinking lights told her they were still some distance away from the ground floor.

She looked again when she felt his eyes on her. She saw the nicest eyes she had ever seen - a colour that should be named 'Twinkling Brown' she thought. She felt her heart lurch, but maybe that was just the motion of the elevator. Before she could gather her wits and look away, a lazy smile slowly lit up his face and teased out an answering smile from her as well. The moment seemed to stretch and expand in her mind till everything seemed sharper and hazier at the same time. The elevator bumped to a stop and brought her back to her surroundings.

She stepped out and walked briskly away without a backward glance. She was feeling a little shocked at her behaviour. Had she just smiled at a guy, a stranger, in the elevator? A guy who had been checking her out, no less. Well, in all fairness, a guy she had been checking out too.

She smiled to herself. It was a sunny day.


* This story can be read on its own or in conjunction with two other pieces I've written - "She" and "He".

Hot headed

Two weeks of fevered activity – the first because I actually had fever and the next because my weeklong absence from office had led to a work pileup.

Week 1

I’m one of those people who suffer through frequent, random and inexplicable bouts of common cold, accepting that this is their lot in life. So I was not unduly alarmed when another bout of sneezing, watering eyes (and nose), assailed me over the weekend. By Monday night however, it became clear that not just the weekend but my entire week look set to be ruined. I came down with fever that would subside on having paracetamols only to resurface after a few hours.

I realized that fevers are a great way to spend time. In the sense that you don’t realize where time flies as you lie in a haze of discomfort, unable to gaze upon the world because your eyelids have grown so heavy and your limbs as unfamiliar as strangers. You dream, or think you dream, of inconsequential matters and wonder if this is how it all ends.

The doctor I went to, was an Old School guy since unlike the new breed, he refused to let me have antibiotics at the earliest possible opportunity. He also prescribed tests but again advised me to wait for a day or so. Eventually these tactics led to nothing more than another fevered day, so after much second-guessing of the doctor’s advice, I got tests done and started on the antibiotics. The tests indicated nothing serious but my fever thought otherwise.

In between, we were visited by some relatives – namely a noisy uncle, his brood and a censorious family Elder. My poor mother nearly fell ill with worry after having to manage them and me together. Anyways, all’s well that ends well. Their visit went off beautifully and even I managed a respite from what was declared to be a viral fever (which apparently is plaguing everyone in my city).

After a couple of false starts, I finally began to walk on the road to recovery. The fever weakened and then finally disappeared. I felt pretty weak and zombie-like myself but wild horses couldn’t keep me away from work. I’m just kidding.

Week 2

Getting back to work took some getting used to. A heap of urgent mails, policy meetings, decision-making nightmares and several new projects welcomed me back. I figured hey, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right? So I rolled up my figurative sleeves and plunged in.

I dealt with the mad rush of phone calls, e-mails, meetings as I dealt with my trembling fingers and constant exhaustion. Somehow, its Friday now and I still live to tell the tale. Yes, I’m working tomorrow also but a weekend is a weekend is a weekend. I’ll still have some time to call my own.

The medicines had killed off my appetite initially and some twisted part of me actually thought that I could benefit from this by not eating out for some weeks to come – thus saving money and watching weight. I am happy to report that things are back on track and I had lunch with a friend at Pizza Hut yesterday. The pasta and pizza have left me yearning for more so am all set to order my beloved Domino’s pizza this weekend.

Also thinking of watching ‘Aisha’. Seems promising. Inspired by Jane Austen’s “Emma”. Alicia Silverstone starrer “Clueless” was also on the same lines and that was good fun. I saw ‘Inception’ and joined the band of those who liked it – gripping, convoluted and the special effects were cool.

Finished reading Ruth Rendell’s novel, ‘Live Flesh’. It was disappointing and depressing. Have borrowed “The Bachman Books” now – a collection of novels that Stephen King wrote under the pseudonym, Richard Bachman. I really like Stephen King’s prose – lucid, graphic and extremely easy to relate to. Not easy to write like that – putting your finger on those half-baked or half-remembered feelings, those sensations that stick like a lump in your throat, those thoughts that one cannot voice. It’s not just about horror.

So, well, now that I’ve shared the latest thrilling episode of Sparkling Supernova and the Mysterious Fever, its time I put my pen down (or should it be its time I stopped clicking on the mouse?). Over and out.

Recent highlights from my life

Haven't written for quite some time. Feel like am hitting some sort of a writers' block. Before it gets too pronounced, thought I should write something. So presenting the highlights of the week gone by:

Attended a seminar on brand management which was held at a prominent city hotel. While the meet seemed promising in the beginning, it soon petered out amid copious amounts of consultancy style jargon and content heavy slides full of flowcharts. It didn't add much value but at least it was a good change after so many days of being locked up in office.

Friends who are based in different cities come visiting this month. Have had some good times catching up with one of them and we have eaten out almost every day that she was here. No wonder I feel like I have gained a few kgs! Also met up with someone who is soon to be a part of our friend circle - she is all set to marry one of my close friends. Can't wait for their wedding - it's going to be so much fun!

Finally redeemed the vouchers I had from Oxford bookstore. Bought three novels after shelling out some more cash from own pocket. The new Jeffrey Archer, a Ruth Rendell and an omnibus of Sherlock Holmes tales. Ha-ppy!

Saw "Up in the Air" - good watch though slightly depressing eventually. Clooney is the best thing about the movie - great screen presence.
Also saw "Saptapadi" today. It's a classic Bengali movie starring Uttam Kumar and Suchitra Sen. Well made, interesting and with that gem of a song, 'Ei path jodi na shesh hoy (If this road didn't end)...'

I am also experiencing wanderlust once again. It's clearly time to pack my bags and leave on a jet plane. Hope it happens some time soon.

Rain

There was no calm before the storm.

It began with a surprisingly cool breeze that soon turned into a strong wind. Doors banged and window panes rattled. Dust clouds floated and whirled like mad dervishes. The people tried not to get their hopes up but the gleam in their eyes gave them away. The wind persisted, howling in their ears, whipping up the dust, scattering pieces of paper, making sails out of curtains.

A loud clap of thunder brought the neighbourhood to life. Babies began to wail and dogs barked madly. The women reached for the clothes hanging on the lines outside and shouted instructions to their husbands. Doors were latched, windows that had been pushed open as wide as they would go, were pulled shut. The children ran to the balconies to watch, aware of the sudden excitement in the air, the crackle and sizzle of it. A fork of lightning streaked down in the night sky – terrifying and captivating. Following close on its heels, another loud boom sounded from the skies. Even the most cynical husband and the most disbelieving wife now looked expectantly at the sky - the Nor’Westers might have finally found the way to their homes.

Big fat drops of rain fell onto the parched grey street. Slowly but yet so fast, the distance between the drops lessened and their frequency increased. It was actually raining. Slowly at first and then in a hard, dense sheet that pounded the ground beneath and raised a familiar smell of wet earth. The rain seemed to make up for its absence with a ferocity that looked unstoppable. The people stood on their verandahs and near their windows, peering out at the rain and feeling its spray on their faces. The street urchins rushed into the cascade, screaming and dancing for joy. The lightning made the raindrops glitter like diamonds as they fell.

The smell of the rain was like the earth’s sigh of relief.

He

He entered the restaurant to escape the heat outside. He was early again, as always. It would be another fifteen minutes at least before his friends showed up. He didn't mind. Being alone in public didn't hassle him.

The heat had leapt at him like a beast once he stepped out of the air-conditioned confines of his office, even though it was now rapidly getting dark. So he entered the nearest A.C. restaurant he could spot. Of course, he thought, looking around, it would be wrong to call this a restaurant. It was one of those new fangled places that offered you coffees and salads and crepes and things. Could one call it a delicatessen, he wondered.

Whatever it was, it felt comfortable, he thought feeling the cool breeze from the AC duct on his face as he sank into a big sofa and dumped his laptop on the floor. And he could use a cold drink. He browsed through the menu, tempted by the variety and the pictures. Finally settling on one of the cold coffees. Not that these places would call it that. They seemed to think that it wouldn't sell if it didn't have a fancy name.

He rolled up his shirt sleeves, settled himself more snugly into his seat and looked around. Mainly couples everywhere of course. A few chatting away earnestly, one playing coy eye-contact games, a couple who looked like they were trying to ignore each other. The whole world had found a mate it seemed, he thought cynically. There was an after-office group too who seemed to be in high spirits. Thank God its Friday, he thought. He looked away not wanting to let work-related thoughts seep into his mind even unknowingly. To his mild surprise, there was also a group of elderly uncles and aunties. And not the hoity-toity kinds. More like the parents of somebody one knew. They looked like they had wandered in here by mistake and were making a brave attempt to go with the flow. The crowd, the music (popular English numbers from the 90's!), the menu (sandwiches for Rs.150), it all seemed to perplex them.
People watching could be an interesting and diverting sport he thought. He was well-versed in it, having spent enough time waiting in airports in his travels around the world.

His eyes drifted to the LCD TV that hung silently in a corner punished by the 90's music. An IPL match was on but his favoured team wasn't playing. He had just about checked the match score when the lights went off. A loud murmur rose from the crowd and fell just as swiftly. A power cut after all can happen anywhere and who in India is not used to it. When the lights didn't come back on within a minute, he heard a lady asking the waiter about it. The waiter made reassuring sounds.

The power cut had transported the restaurant into a different space. The place had huge glass windows on two sides and the darkness was partly lifted by the glow of streetlights that poured in through the windows. It gave the place a strange intimacy and anonymity. He was surprised to find that he liked it this way.
There was a mild breeze outside and he could see the shadows of the swaying trees on the walls. He felt lulled by the hushed whispers, the tinkling of glasses, a womans' laughter...somebody was sharing a funny story and he was an unwitting listener too. He caught a flash of golden. It was the drink on a stranger's table glowing amber amid the surrounding darkness and silhouettes. He was struck by the visual wishing he had his camera with him then. He thought, not for the first time, about the beauty one finds in unexpected places.

The side doors swung open and a girl entered. The lights came on almost immediately. The girl seemed a little taken aback by this and a little bemused. She had beautiful kohl-lined eyes and the hint of a smile hovered on her lips. She was scanning the crowds...looking for her mate, he thought.

Just then his cell phone burst into song. He told his friends where they could find him.

She

She stood next to the traffic policeman. She waited for him to blow the whistle that would call a temporary cessation to the hostilities, that would let her cross the road.

She stood on the small stretch of no man’s land between two lanes of traffic moving in opposite directions. Her thoughts felt alien, like they were pulled into distorted shapes by the chaos that surrounded her. Vehicles, big and small, rushed past, belching black smoke and loud noise. They rumbled past relentlessly, not seeing where they blew the dust, not caring who came in their path.

People thronged around her, pushing past and jostling each other. With an almost bovine impatience they scrambled for the best position even as they waited to cross the road. Hoping that their collective haste would make the traffic stop.

The sun beat down with no regard for the fact that it was a relatively early hour. She could almost feel the steam rising off from everything around her - like they were all giving up their souls to some hellish inferno.
There was a building being torn down on the pavement across the road. The sound of the hammers had a rhythmic quality to it – a haunting sound amid all the cacophony.

Flashes of chrome and plate glass made her squint. She felt she would not be surprised if she was run over. It was almost too easy. One step forward or one step back would make all the difference - the Dance of Death she thought morbidly.

She felt disoriented – cut off from past and future. Locked into this eternal present where the sun grew hotter, where the din of the traffic wouldn’t let her think, where the crowd made her feel invisible. Her kohl-lined eyes yearned to close themselves against this brutal reality. She felt she would gently float away into a space that was far removed. Someplace pure. Clean. Quiet. She felt she would give up almost anything for such a moment…The whistle blew with a piercing shriek and she jumped out of her reverie.

She crossed the road and started walking briskly forward, trying to get her thoughts in order.